Drowning in Illusions
by deanna37
Summary: Clare is moving on in life after suffering amnesia caused from a car accident. Years have passed, but odd memories continue to haunt her. Not just ordinary memories, though. There's a masked man trying to reach her in her dreams. A man that she does not remember, though he is determined that he knows her.
1. My Dark Angel

**First off, I'd like to say that this is actually a sequel to ****_Drowning in the Music_****. If you're new to this story, you don't absolutely have to read ****_Drowning in the Music_**** to begin this story, but it would probably be best to read it first. Unless if you're alright with a couple of spoilers, you can wait to read the other as a prequel. xP Maybe read both a little at a time? Oh well, your choice. Either way, it really doesn't matter.**

**I hope you all like this story!**

**My Erik in this fanfic, is a mix of Susan Kay's Erik, and the 2004 Phantom of the Opera movie, starring Gerard Butler. Love both of them!**

**This chapter is based off of the song, ****_My Heart is Broken_**** by ****_Evanescence._**

**I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, or any music from Evanescence. I only own my OC's, especially Clare!**

**Enjoy!**

**. . .**

_"Clare!"_

The familiar voice called my name again, and my blurred eyes searched the overwhelming white room. The voice was _so_ familiar. Who was it? I felt a desperate yearning to see the person I heard. Still struggling to evade from the confusing trance, a name crossed my mind. For a moment, I knew it like the back of my hand, but before I could truly grasp it, it fled from my mind. Although the name left, something flowed in my stirring conscious like a dear memory.

I felt completely submerged elsewhere. I could feel a cold winter breeze gently brushing though my red hair, and grazing my face. I could feel _him_ next to me; the man. Something told me that I knew him dearly, but I could not place him in my mind correctly.

"_I didn't want to see my only friend being harmed."_ He said softly, with a very deep and musical undertone. My eyes that had originally settled on his shiny black dress shoes flickered up to his dark brown vest and black tailored coat.

"_Thank you so much._" This voice was different. It was. . .

Underneath the restless waves of confusion in my mind, I somehow faintly recognized that it was _my_ own voice. Everything felt _so_ familiar. My whole body nearly trembled in a fierce, uncontrollable _longing_ for the unknown voice; the unknown person. It was as though my heart knew this man, but failed to remind my brain. Deep down, I knew this man, but his information had slipped from my mind. I would've given anything to remember – why couldn't I remember him?

"_You are welcome, __**cherie**__._" He whispered. For a moment, I swore that it had been said straight into my ear. I had even been convinced that I _felt_ his warm breath graze my skin affectionately. I then realized that I was hugging him, and I was deeply relaxed in his welcoming arms. Faintly familiar voice reached my ears as I pulled away from the embrace. Just as my eyes were about to drink in his features, he turned his face away, pointed in the direction of the voices.

"_Clare!_"

I hadn't even realized that my eyes had drifted shut again until my name was said once more, awakening me from the warm and oddly soothing comatose. My eyes snapped open, light invading my sight harshly.

As I desperately tried to see the man's face, he faded away from the blaring bright light, and I felt grief fill me. There was an unexplainable longing for the man once he disappeared. I had never felt that way before in my entire life. I was tempted to reach out and find him, but he was gone. I wanted to call out his name, but I did not know it. I swore that I had _known_ him- that I had known him with all of my heart. Although as my conscious returned, stirring drowsily, every vivid detail washed out of my mind; features lost and forgotten.

Realizing that this man my heart yearned for was gone, I felt tears spring to my eyes. I had already missed the anonymous man. He had such a deep rapturous and warm voice; he seemed inhuman. . .I would've been convinced that this man was an angel, but did angel's did not wear black. Perhaps he was a dark angel, although that thought didn't sound right; he seemed far too gentle to be a demon. What was he? Deep down, it felt as though he _belonged_ to me. If that was the case, he couldn't be an angel, then.

The voice called my name continuously. Was it the man? Was he nearby?

Gazing through my tears, I realized that I was in a room. A white room. The searing white made me wince and I struggled to make out shapes. Hiding my eyes in the shadows casted from my raised hand, I continued to look until my weak eyes softened against the light.

"Clare, honey?" A familiar motherly voice cooed.

"Mom?" My voice came out much quieter than I had expected; just barely audible to my own ears.

"Yes, it's me." She responded to my surprise. When she didn't say anything else, I noticed that there was a heart monitor next to me, beeping in my ear. Gazing through my blurred eyes, I could see both of my parents sitting tenderly next to the bed I laid in. My eyes flickered back down, seeing that I was in a medical bed. My heart nearly stopped when I realized that I was in a hospital.

It wasn't _that_ that bothered me; it was not remembering _why_ I was there that made my heart rate climb. I frantically racked my mind for the latest thing that resurfaced, but remained fuzzy.

My eyes darted back down, seeing that my right wrist was wrapped up tightly with white bandages. I examined my hand for a moment, debating whether I should've dared to move my fingers. After some hesitation, I stiffly stretched out my hand, immediately stopping once it throbbed in agony, forcing me to grit my teeth for a moment.

Once that pain subsided, I fidgeted uncomfortably to face my parents, halting when a sharp pain jabbed into the very center of my elbow. I twisted my arm, spotting a patch sticking to my elbow. I rested my arm carefully, but not before feeling the harsh pain shooting up my arm.

A long silence dragged on until my sleepy conscience realized that both of my parents were anxiously waiting for me to say something. I immediately felt awful when I saw their eyes brimming with tears; especially my mother. My father was good at keeping his grief under control, but I could still see that he was also very troubled. Although through the worried stares I received from them, one question tugged at my mind.

"What happened?"

**. . .**

**Erik's POV**

_I cannot deny it. I love Erik. That's what kills me, though. His heart is still set on Christine – I just __**know**__ it, but Christine does not return it. Poor Erik. His heart is practically tossed aside, but he still fights to win her heart. And through all of that, I'm standing here helplessly, watching the entire time. I want to help him, but it __**kills**__ me that he loves __**her**__. How can I help him, and not break? How can I be understanding with him when he speaks so openly about her, when my heart aches to be in Christine's shoes instead of mine?_

_I have a horribly selfish feeling that I will not be strong enough to follow through with all of it, but I still cannot erase my feelings for him. Oh gosh! It __**kills**__ me! I want him. I love everything about him. . ._

**_. . ._**

The more I read her letters, the more I cried. How had I over looked _her_ feelings? Had I been fixated on Christine enough that everything else remained oblivious to me?

The entire time I could have truly had her. She could have been mine even when I first saw my early signs of admiration in her. She could have been mine so long ago, although my doubtful thoughts prevented me from ever believing so.

I released the letters, dropping my head into my hands. I heard the letters flutter down, sweeping and then settling against the keys of the organ. Vicious sobs racked through my body as I released every pain that had grieved my heart; all the pain that had built up all of these years.

_She_ had swept away a lot of the pain, but her sudden disappearance sent everything up into the air once more. I never wanted this torture to settle onto my shoulders again, but somehow, it had found another way to grow even heavier, until it was agonizing; _unbearable. _

Would I wander the rest of my life, reaching for happiness only to draw away once it struck me in rejection? No, I would wander to somehow find her. After everything we had gone through. . .

_Oh!_ The pain was intolerable! I needed _her!_

_You'll never find her._ My mind whispered.

Knowing that was most likely true, more tears flooded from my eyes, landing on the pages; the pages that she had written on. The letters tore me apart, but somehow kept my sanity bound together. It was the only evidence I had, probing that she had not been a figment of my imagination. Though now I had evidence of her existence, her absence would torment me every day. It would torment me until it drove me into a death caused by sorrow; until I died from a broken heart.

Soon I found myself leaving the pipe organ, as the memories haunted my mind. This _had_ to be a nightmare. I had told myself that when I had first arrived home once her disappeared. I had been overwhelmed by shock and grief – I had told myself that it wasn't true, and that I would find her sound asleep in the lovely red swan bed. Although once I stumbled in, half in denial and half in depression, my hopes had been shattered.

She was gone.

That was when cruel reality woke me.

She was_ gone._

I froze when I suddenly realized that I was grimly staring back at my own reflection, in one of the many wretched mirrors of my home. I was grimly staring back at my own blue eyes. Countless emotions filled my mind. I automatically loathed the face I saw, but her soft words brought shame upon my sour thoughts. I soon found myself asking _what_ it was I hated. My face? My life? _Me?_

I _would_ have said that I hated my life, but that was not entirely true. I had lived moments that I cradled carefully in my beaten up heart. Those were memories of _her_. Those months spent with her, were some of the happiest moments I had ever experienced. I just wasn't given enough time to cherish it. She was torn away far too quickly.

Saying that I hated my life would bring guilt, for I felt no remorse upon my happy moments spent with her. Instead, her name was on the only thing that glowed deep within my soul. Clare. Her name was the only _life_ that remained in my scarred heart. Although my heart deeply treasured her, it also mourned for her relentlessly. She would be the death of me; I was just sure of it.

As more and more emotions built up within the walls of me, a loud crash ruptured into the air, and my reflection fractured before my eyes. Fragments of glinting glass suddenly fell before my feet. As I breathed heavily, a searing pain shot through my hand.

For a wild moment, I thought I was suffering from a heart attack, and that the pain would shoot up my arm as well. Although when that did not happen, I realized that my hand felt warm and sticky. My eyes flew down to my throbbing hand, finding my own blood seeping through lacerations, trailing down my knuckles and wrist.

I could see clearly then, the shards of glass that was embedded into my hand. The pulsing wound caused me to cringe in pain. I was bleeding badly, and my mind urged me to fix the wound, though at the very back of my mind, a question made me hesitate.

_Why bother fighting? Why not bleed out? There is nothing to live for anymore._

As more and more blood seeped out continuously, I realized how much blood was on the floor. I wondered if I had severed a vain, but for some odd reason, that did not worry me. I knew that in seconds, numbness would spread, and death would drift upon me. I found myself impatiently waiting for darkness to enclose around me.

Before I knew it, I was beginning to grow dizzy. It wasn't the first time this had happened, after all. I nearly bled to death on my fifth birthday. The scars on my hands and wrist had been re-slit. I couldn't believe that I was still standing, thought I began to sway uneasily in my spot. Growing weaker and weaker, I sank to my knees, failing to feel glass digging into my skin. Slumping forward, I faintly felt my temple resting against the cold frame of the broken mirror. My pulse thumped against the frame – my body fighting to live. I allowed my eyes to slip shut, waiting for my life to slip and drift away.

_I love you, Clare._

I only wanted to think about Clare in my last moments. Some people often fanaticized about their life flashing before their eyes during death, but that was not the case for me. Was death not near enough? Instead all I could think of was what Clare _would_ have done if she was there. I could imagine her frantically trying to stop the blood flow.

_"No Erik! Don't you close your eyes – don't just give__** up!**__" _I could just about hear her saying that. _"You __**do**__ have something to live for – look at me, don't close your eyes! Stay with me!"_

Why did it matter? She was no longer here, and there was no escaping from the lonely darkness; I could not escape with her. She was gone.

Although part of me wanted to die, the other part cringed in remorse. Not only did death sound _very_ depressing (though at times it seemed more pleasant than my wretched life before Clare), but guilt filled me upon the thought of failing Clare. She wouldn't have wanted this to happen. At times I could not understand that child for even caring about me.

She found me _attractive?_ She found a _sweet_ side of me? Whether she was a rare jewel, or utterly insane, her letter had touched my heart and sent me into tears.

_Oh, my dear Clare. . ._

I then regretted that I had originally succumbed to the idea of death; I could not allow myself to die. Clare wouldn't have wanted it. It would've torn her heart; something that I still could not comprehend correctly.

I knew that if I decided to live at the last second, I would have to work very quickly.

_You could find Clare. _My mind whispered. _You just have to look for her. She came here and let here __**somehow**__. Find that gateway._

Through my fuzzy mind, I somehow pulled myself off the bitter ground. The room whirled around me and I stumbled.

_Why? _I thought. _Why though? She's gone._

_No she's not! _My mind argued back. _Now stop trying to figure out all of the possibilities, and stop your nasty bleeding! If you don't stop it __**now,**__ then you're going to die!_

Knowing that it true, I pushed aside my plans to find Clare at that moment, as I went to tend my wounds.

**. . .**

**Well, I hope you guys liked it! I hope that there's no errors, but I'm sure that they're there, since I was in a rush to get this up.**

**So what's gonna happen next?! You'll find out soon! **

**Thanks for reading! Please review!**


	2. Dream I Do

**I'm soooo sorry that I was a bit late with this update! I've just had a busy week, and was also in a mini writer's block. But, I think it's resolved now; my writer's block often don't last long. At the most, they last a few days, but not months and months, so do not worry! Besides, I'm eager to write this story! Really, I was just rearranging paragraphs and scenes this whole time, wondering which fit the best and what-not. That was what delayed the update.**

**Well, I wanna thank you all for your awesome reviews! My goodness! I'm shocked by how many I've received within such a short amount of time, and oh my gosh! I love you guys soooo much for them! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!**

**I named this chapter after a lyric from ****Taking Over Me**** by ****Evanescence.**

**Me: Erik, time to give them more hugs!**

**I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or any songs from Evanescence! Only my OC's, especially Clare!**

**Enjoy!**

**. . .**

**Clare's POV**

_Inching closer, I saw a dark form crumpled on the ground. Gasping, I noticed that there was blood all over the ground around the man. Rushing to him in panic, I suddenly knew who he was. I shouted his name in horror and felt glass crunch beneath my shoes once I reached him._

_His icy blue eyes met mine, though I felt like he was looking right passed me. His eyes began to droop._

_"Don't you close your eyes – don't just give __**up!**__" I cried. Cupping his face into my hands, I desperately tried to get him to look at me, which worked to my surprise._

_"You __**do**__ have something to live for," His skin felt clammy, and falling back into his daze, sinking in deeper, I saw his eyes drift shut. "Look at me, don't close your eyes! Stay with me!"_

**. . .**

My eyes flew open, met with darkness that was draped across my room.

_It was just a dream._

Although I knew that it had been a nightmare, I couldn't help but to be. . ._Worried_ for the man that was dying in my dream. I was actually _concerned_ for him. A man that wasn't even real. Though he wasn't real, he felt so familiar. . .I even said his name in my nightmare, but thinking back on it, I could not remember it. I had seen his face, but his features faded from my memory. I could only remember that he had the most beautiful blue eyes that I had ever seen.

_Who was he?_

I tiredly rolled over and glanced at my alarm clock. Reading the bright blue numbers on it, I realized that I still had a good hour until I had to get up for school. I would have gotten up if I wasn't so tired.

_Maybe I can enter the dream again and help the man._ I thought as I closed my eyes.

_Yes, that sounds like a good idea. . .I want to help him. . ._

**. . .**

**Erik's POV**

I lived.

I couldn't believe it, but I had actually survived, even from the major blood loss. At the time it was difficult to seek out every sliver of glass, but I somehow managed through it. I hadn't realized just where all the injuries were in my hand until I was already pulling out the glass shards.

There was one particular jagged piece that had been shoved into the bottom of my palm, and the beginning of my wrist; that was the main laceration that caused me to bleed terribly. I hadn't even felt it at the time due to the numbness that had spread through my hand with tremendous speed. The rest of the cuts formed in-between my knuckles where smaller glass pieces had pierced through my skin, and prodded out of my hand.

I would have taken more care with gingerly pulling out every sliver and glass fragment, but I had to fly through the procedure to stop the bleeding. I had to sew up the ugly gash in my lower hand, but not without difficulty, for the blood nearly made it impossible. The stitches were very close together, though not completely straight. I would have made the stitches very precise, though I did not waste time to make it look pretty, since I was losing precious blood by the second, _and_ I was practically sewing blindly, struggling to see though the deep red liquid that continuously seeped through my numb wounds.

I raveled a white wrap around my injured hand, cringing at the sight of all my stitches. It was a miracle that I survived. Once my hand was wrapped up properly, I went to the broken mirror, doing my best to sweep up the glass, and to clean away the dried blood. Once that was taken care of, I sank to the bench next to the pipe organ. I wanted to play, but obviously could not.

My eyes drifted down to Clare's letters that was sprawled across the keys of the organ. As soon as I saw them, I felt my eyes burn without any warning.

_What if she was still here? What if she had never disappeared? _I would have brought her back home with me. Home in my heart. Home in my arms forever. I immediately regretted not showing my true love for her sooner. She had loved me this whole time and I had not known! Her letters admitted her feelings! It was proof. How had I_ not_ seen it earlier? I was such a fool.

"Hello?"

I practically jumped out of my skin at the voice I heard directly behind me. I whirled around, met with a familiar face. I felt my mouth drop open, overcome by complete shock, and my eyes widened in disbelief.

"_C-Clare?_" I gasped.

She was there. She was truly standing there before me. I saw her narrow her green eyes at me in confusion, as though she could not understand my reasoning in being utterly astonished. She was wearing her infernal clothing again - her ridiculous futuristic pants and shirt, that only should have been worn on a _man _not a _woman._ Although, at that moment, her clothing choice did not affect the sudden that came over me, and I found myself shooting off the bench.

"Clare!" I cried. Racing to her, I opened my arms, not wanting to wait any longer. I wanted to embrace her for hours to come. I _needed_ her.

Feeling the air rushing past me, I hastily ran to close the space between us. Once I reached her, I wrapped my arms around her, crushing her against myself. I heard a small surprised sound come from Clare as soon as I swept her right off of her feet. I loved her so much, and was willing to prove that to her, that night.

I pressed my face against the crook of her neck, embracing the fact that she was truly _there._ I wasn't even sure _how_ she had disappeared earlier. Had I been going mad? Was I hallucinating? Was it all a dream?

Though feeling my eyes pressed against her warm neck, and smelling her soft scent, I was determined that she was truly there. Kissing her wildly, my lips eagerly drifted across her neck, over her jaw and onto her face. My lips automatically went to hers, desperate to remember what she tasted like. I found myself whispering that I loved her in-between my kisses, and I knew that it would only be so long before I would be tempted to carry her to my bed.

She felt tense in my arms and before anything else could happen, her shaking hands went to my chest, pushing me away. I immediately froze upon her forbearance. Pulling away reluctantly, I unsteadily sat her back upon her feet. Her green eyes looked up at me with complete shock and. . .Fear? I found myself frantically wondering if my mask was in place. I recalled slipping on a new one _hours_ ago, but I also recalled hearing her say _several_ times that my face did not frighten her. . .So why did it just now cause her to look anxious to create a large amount of space between us? Did my actions startle her? Shame crept inside my heart.

_How __**dare**__ you act so. . .So. . .Ungentlemanly __**wild**__ with her! How dare you try to shower her with your selfish lust! Monster!_

She kept trying to free herself, looking utterly aghast as though she was forcefully apprehended by me. Struck by hurt and overwhelming shame, I urgently released my light grip I had of her arms, and she hastily stumbled back.

"Clare, I-"

"Who are you?" She demanded with a thick, wavering tone that was just barely audible. A jolt of tremendous horror shot through me the moment I heard her say that.

_Who am I?! _My mind echoed back baffled. _You know me __**very**__ well, child._ I felt myself staring at her, numb and overwhelmed with many emotions all at once. The sudden horribly understood reasoning of her words hit me. She must had not recognized my bursting passion and crave I felt for her, though I could not get my head around why she had accepted my kisses earlier that day. Did she finally see me as a monster?

I decided that it was either that, or she truly did _not_ remember me. How would that be, though?

"You know me." I stated. As soon as I told her that, she shook her head. My veins ran cold when I recognized the confused look in her eyes. She looked at me the same way she had the night we had first met.

"No," She said quietly. "I _don't_."

**. . .**

**Argh, I wanted to write more, but I have to stop it here, and I didn't want to make you guys waiting. I know, short chapter. Because of that, I will hopefully update within a few days from now (early update, yay!), but I cannot promise anything. If I update within just the next couple days, it will probably be a short update.**

**Whoever reviews gets a hug from Erik!**

**Erik: Not this again! *Getting tackled by phan-girls***

**Thanks for reading! :D**


	3. Lost

**Okay, I wanted this to be a lot longer, but I had to do a lot of editing and re-writing for it. So, it's a lot different than the version in my notebook. **

**Me: Erik gets 13 hugs!**

**Erik: *Nervously* Uh, bonjour, if you don't mind, I'm just going to go over here. . .Wait, NOOO! *Getting tackled by Phan-girls***

**I named this after the song ****Lost**** by ****Within Temptation****.**

**I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or Within Temptation! I only own my OC's, especially Clare!**

**Enjoy!**

**. . .**

**Erik's POV**

"Yes you do," I argued, my panic growing wildly. "You've been here for the last few months, until, until. . ." I stopped. "How _did_ you get here?" As my eyes searched her, eager for answers, she returned my gaze with a shrinking, timid-like manner.

"A doorway," She squeaked, rather uncertainly. "A mirror from a long passageway that had torches." I instantly knew what she was talking about, but could not fathom how the mirror had been responsible for her disappearance, and entry. She had faded before my very eyes! How could a _mirror_ do that?

My old childhood fascination with mirrors had mellowed down years ago, but I had also managed to craft and alter illusions with the help of mirrors throughout the years. I had very much knowledge with illusions, but never once had I been stumped upon them.

"How?" I hadn't intended to sound gruff, but it slipped nevertheless. I couldn't help but to be very curious to be enlightened about the tricks to this mirror; tricks that had actually managed to escape my own knowing! It reminded me very much of my early childhood. . .I found her shrugging before me, sucking life away from my hopes of knowing.

Studying her closely, I suddenly realized how much more. . ._Mature_ she looked. It was amazing how much she aged within a _day!_ She truly did look like a woman to me at that point. Before I could scare her with my wandering eyes, I focused my gaze straight into her same big green eyes.

"You. . .You don't remember me?" I asked in a lower tone than I had expected, feeling my heart sinking and withering. Clare shook her head, re-awakening my misery. Only grief filled my heart, filling it like how water invades into a sinking boat. . .or _car_, in Clare's case. I faintly wondered if that was the reason why Clare could not remember. Was it the car accident she had spoke of? Deep inside myself, I could feel hysteria rising, ready to rupture.

_This cannot be happening._

Had I _not_ suffered enough torment already? I could feel a sob already building up; my body trembling, not able to sustain a breakdown that was ready to spew. "You – You _have_ to remember!" I cried. "You must!"

She looked at me, still looking very confused and frightened. "I don't." She whispered.

The world spun around me, and I was sure that I would collapse at her feet right then and there. I felt like I was about to fall to my knees just like how I had the night I had confessed my feelings to her.

"You do!" I cried. "I know you do; you just have to remember! I-It was because of that car accident, wasn't it?" I questioned, desperately, hearing my own voice trembling uncontrollably in my wild shouts. As soon as the words left my lips, she gasped in terror. She looked far more fearful to remember the car accident than to be in my presence. I could see a sickening past ghosting across her green orbs, awakening her with fear of that night.

"How did you know about that?" She questioned frantically. I immediately felt dread fill my heart at the distress that was brought upon her.

"Clare. . ." I stepped closer, wanting nothing more than to comfort her tortured soul. Though I stepped closer to help her, I saw a flash of distrust gleam in her eyes, causing her to step away, as though in disgust.

"Get away from me." She hissed.

Her words were like a poisoned dagger to my heart. Comforting words that I had been ready to breathe out only moments ago were shattered from her command; my words dying in my throat. I numbly closed my mouth, knowing that my attempt to help her was destroyed.

Not bothering to stop her, I watched her dart away from me, running for the closest exit, which only happened to be the swan room. The red velvety curtains had swayed aside from her hand before fluttered back into place. I stood there, frozen, staring at the curtain for a long time, as my thoughts that were dusted with sorrow and disbelief, pooled into my mind.

_Get away from me._

Her words continued to cross my mind, reminding me that the last time I had heard her say that was when I took her out to dance. . .When she was deceived by her assumptions of me. She was deceived once again, but not from me; from her lost memories of this life. To her, I was nothing more than a stranger now. A stranger that held her in his home. . .Not a stranger, but a _monster_. A monster in his dwellings. My lover was gone. She was no longer the Clare I knew.

Feeling shock welling in my heart, I sank down to the bench. As I sat there, questions poured into my frantic mind. She came from a mirror, but how had she left? Why was her memory just _now_ taken away? Why hadn't it happened sooner? I knew that at first, she had no memory of what had happened during the car accident, but she had gained the memory back. I still remembered the night she told me about the car accident.

She had cried until I was just about positive that she would collapse from it. At the time I was so astonished by the grief she had been put through that I actually _held _her all night, which was peculiar for me since every living thing that possessed common sense knew to keep away from me. Though I think under all of it, I secretly relished caressing a warm, living, breathing being; one who had actually leaned into my touch. I recalled that that night, months ago, I held her, and eventually _sang_ her to sleep. It was the only way I was able to cease her sobs. I think she was already falling asleep right when I had begun to sing, but I did it anyways, hoping that maybe she would sleep peacefully; sleeping away the anguish that riddled her tortured soul. Though it tore me apart to see her horribly distressed, I had cherished holding her until I had actually fallen asleep with her in my arms.

I desperately wanted to caress her again, and have her remember, but I knew that could not happen. If she would gain it back, it would have to take time. And even then, if she were to ever love me again, she would have to see that I was not a monster. To her, I never was a monster. Though now, that was a different story.

Turning towards the pipe organ, I gently placed my hands against the keys, softly pressing them, forming a melody. I couldn't help but to hope that maybe my music could help her remember. I found the music deep from my heart; the music that practically had her name engraved into the song. I allowed the music to emit from the organ, making the lair come to life with the song I wrote just for my _cherie_. The song I wrote and played when she still loved me. . .

**. . .**

**I know, it was a short chapter! Hopefully I'll update again soon!**

**So what did you guys think of it? Did ya like it? Hmmm?**

**What do you think is gonna happen soon? Is Clare ever going to gain her memory back? How would it happen?**

**Share your thoughts through reviews! Thanks for reading!**


	4. Imaginary

**I know, I know, it's kinda a short chapter. I had to do a LOT of construction with this chapter, so it took some time to do it.**

**Thank you so much for those who have been reviewing! You're all so nice to do so! I didn't receive as many reviews as I have before, so I hope you all come back soon! I wanna thank ****phantomphan4evr ****for reviewing each and every chapter! I love reading your nice reviews, thank you!**

**Erik gets 10 hugs.**

**Erik: Ten? That's it? . . .Well, that's not so bad. *Looking relieved***

**Me: You still get hugs though. *Watching phangirls crowding around him***

**I'm naming this chapter after the song ****Imaginary**** by ****Evanescence.**

**I do not own the Phantom of the Opera nor any music from Evanescence! I only own my OC's, especially Clare!**

**. . .**

My eyes shot open by the sound of my alarm clock. My ears were so sensitive to the jarring _beeps_ it rendered deliberately in the mornings, until I thought I was ready to rip my hair out. My loathsome alarm clock had once more mercilessly, carelessly, chased away my dreams; dreams that had been forgotten once my alarm snapped me out of the peaceful trance that precious sleep brought. I couldn't quite remember the dream, but the nightmare before it was still very vivid. . .This nightmare had been a change, since for most of the time, I dreamt a different nightmare every night.

Sleep became scarce from continuous, reoccurring nightmares of _the_ car accident; an unnerving memory that I tried so hard to forbid myself from remembering, but to no evade. Even the smallest trait of it made my stomach clench. The sickening reminder came far too much throughout the day. _Every_ day.

The memory adored to enter my mind when I went to sleep because sleep was the perfect opportunity for its claws to grip my mind. I could not fight away the memories, especially through my nightmares, for I was completely helpless during unconsciousness. The mind was certainly a powerful thing, especially when it was associated with nightmares. When those two fused together, sleeping became frightening, for my past always came back to haunt me. I always relived the car accident every night, and every morning I woke up terrified and grief stricken.

Frowning at my alarm clock, I shut it off, relieving my ears. I still could not get over the fact that for the first time in years, I had dreamt of something else besides the nightmare of the car accident. I had always wanted to escape from the sickly fear, but I never could; I never could until just now. I had always found myself surrendering to sleep every night, for my body could not tolerate to spend hours on end, weary and exhausted. I had to reluctantly succumb to sleep that sadistically tortured my mind with the memories whether I wanted it to or not. I simply had no say in it. I could not drive my dreams into a different direction. I was only there for the ride, unable to stop the nightmare.

Though this night had been different. For once, I had not been dragged under the water, trapped in the sinking car in my torturous dreams. I had dreamt of a man. . .Dying. . .The memory of the nightmare was still very vivid, the only thing it lacked, was the exact features of the man.

_Who was he? _Deep down, I felt like I had dreamt more about him, but that dream had been lost under the haziness that existed between the thin line of sleep and consciousness.

_You have to get ready._ My mind urged me. For the first time ever, I didn't want to get up and ready for the day. I guess I was odd that way. Usually, I wanted the day to come quickly so I could escape from my nightmares, though this night had been different. I merely wanted to return to the man in my dreams, and help him. . .Who was he? There was _something_ about him that won over my mind. I had a feeling that this anonymous man would be on my mind for a very long time. I wanted to learn who he was.

I was tempted to lie back down, but I knew that if I did, I would be asleep within seconds. Restless nights always caught up quickly. Reluctantly getting up, I wearily shuffled over to my dresser, picking up a brush. Looking into a mirror, I began to brush my hair, thinking over the day's schedule.

_Only one more year of college. _I told myself. _Just one more._

My eyes looked red from all the restless nights. Why couldn't the memories of the car accident just leave me alone? Why did it have to haunt me every waking moment? What were my chances of even living a normal life if I was constantly tormented? There was no chance then. My only chance would be if the nightmares slowly went away, although my mind could still not evade fully. This had only been the first night that I had not dreamt of that dreadful car accident. It would take many more years before the nightmares would subside completely.

Though I told myself that, I felt my stomach clench at the lie. _It's already been so many years. . ._I dreaded the many nights that lied ahead of me.

Before I could turn away from the mirror, a bright reflection caught my attention. My gaze flickered back, meeting someone else's eyes. They practically glowed and I found myself jumping, utterly horrified. At first glance, I swore that I saw a pair of electric blue eyes. Had my eyes deceived me? I swore that I had _seen_ someone looking back at me, though I was only met with my own green eyes.

I had even _felt_ the gaze. It felt unearthly powerful. The eyes itself felt to have possessed its own gravity. I stared at my own image, trying to figure out what had been the source of the light I had seen. My own puzzled expression bounced back at me mockingly. I was just _sure_ that I had seen it. I was positive. How could I have merely _imagined _those eyes? They were intensely vivid; the most vivid thing I had noticed this whole weary morning.

I felt so stupid to be studying a mirror as though it was the first time I had ever seen myself, but the sudden strength from the mirror I felt was nearly hypnotic. There had been something familiar about the eyes. I knew it deep in my heart but I could not quite place it. It almost felt as though the eyes had been studying _me_ from the mirror. The color of them was so incredibly sharp. The color closely resembled a darker shade of blue topaz. Someone I knew had those eyes. . .But who? Had it been someone I used to know?

As I thought harder, my answer had suddenly been revealed to me within only a split second.

_Him._ The man that was in my dream. The man who had been _dying_ in my dream. What did all of this mean? Had I once know him? It almost felt as though all of this had been as message to me. . .Was he trying to find me?

Before any other questions could gross my mind, I snapped away from the trance I nearly fell in.

_I __**had**__ to have been seeing things. _I told myself. _Either that, or I'm going insane._

**_. . ._**

_Not blue enough!_ I thought irritably, as I swirled the two blue paints together on a pallet. _What color were his eyes? Topaz? Yes, definitely._

I wasn't sure if I was obsessed to paint the blue eyes I saw, but either way, it was the perfect thing to paint for my biggest art project. It was my sixth year in college, and graduation was finally just around the corner. I had my core classes out of the way, narrowing it down to my last few classes. Since my parents weren't very enthusiastic about my major, I had psychology as a minor to make it up to them, which they were pleased with as I had theorized.

Frankly, my parents thought that it was very foolish of me to get art as my major, but I splurged. They warned me many times that there were not very many places that I could get with a master's in art. I understood, but I couldn't help myself. I didn't dream to be an art teacher, but I had always loved drawing and painting. That, and there was a certain art museum that always tugged at the back of my mind; a very nice museum in the city. From recent trips to the art museum, I found very many nice pieces, though others, were not my cup of tea.

_Maybe I could get my own art work in and get paid. With some of the crazy stuff that comes in on display, it can't be that hard to get my own art piece in. After all, everything and anything is considered art to at least __**someone**__. _I thought, once more, wishfully. _Hopefully someone will like mine. . ._

I mixed the paint together until I had the correct shade of topaz. I carefully dabbed the blue paint onto the white canvas, praying that I wouldn't mess up.

_It's alright. _I told myself. _If I mess up, I can just paint right over it._

**_. . ._**

**Well, I hope you all liked it! So why did Clare see Erik's eyes in the mirror? What does it all mean? Are they ever going to find a way back to each other? You'll find out! In the mean time, please give Erik more and more hugs through reviews! He really needs them.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	5. Dreaming State

***Taps computer screen* Are you all still there? Chapter by chapter, I've been rapidly losing reviewers, so if you're still into the story (which I hope you are) then please review! Don't be shy! . . .I at least hope that you guys are enjoying where this story is going so far. **

**Well, aside from that, Erik receives 9 hugs.**

**Erik: Nine? Alright, I can take that. *Individually hugs each reviewer***

**Sorry it took me longer than usual to update. I was really struggling with this chapter, since every time I tried to write, it sounded like crap to me.**

**I do not own the Phantom of the Opera. *Pouts* I only own my OC, Clare.**

**Enjoy!**

**. . .**

I went to my locker that was in the back of the art class, putting away some of my art supplies. My painting had been coming along nicely the past few days. I was amazed that it at least looked decent even through my restless nights. I was just glad that my hands weren't shaking too terribly bad like how they used to several years ago. My body was used to low hours of sleep. It was a lot worse the first few years after the car accident, but my current sleeping routine still was not the greatest. I used to have horrible dark circles under my eyes, but they faded as I adjusted to the barely minable hours of rest.

Some days I looked worse than others, though my family and friends always noted how tired I looked in the eyes. With the never ending nightmares and restless nights, my parents had eventually suggested talking to a therapist, but I refused, and reassured them that I was perfectly fine. . .How ironic it was that I decided on psychology for my minor!

As I was awkwardly storing away my art supplies, I stopped when I felt a pair of eyes on me. After a moment of hesitation, I resumed to putting everything away in my ugly tan colored locker.

_Probably Veronica._ I thought.

Veronica always had a thing for hiding behind corners, waiting to jump out at me. Occasionally she would leap out and frighten the wrong person, which was always pretty hilarious to watch; especially when she would frantically apologize to the flustered person, only to have them scoff angrily at her and walk off irritated.

Ready to back-fire her little trick, I swung my locker door shut, only to blink in confusion when I found no one there. I glanced over my shoulder, still not spotting my bubbly blonde friend.

_I'm probably just very tired._ I told myself as I hurried out of the empty classroom.

**. . .**

My earlier theory was proven a fact during my psychology class, since my head kept bobbing drowsily the entire time. Restless nights had built up and taken a toll on me this time.

_Don't you dare fall asleep!_ My mind scolded. _If you do, then you'll fall behind in class!_

I knew that was true, but my tired body was selfish, only focused on getting some shut eye. I tried keeping my eyes open to pay attention, only to be defeated by sleep deprivation. It felt _impossible_ to keep my eyes from slipping shut, and having my consciousness wandering away, second by second. Just as my mind would slip under the comforting rocking waves of dormancy, my teacher's voice would startle me awake. Not that my teacher purposefully tried to reach my sinking attention, but the volume of their voice seemed to have heightened just as I arrived at the comforting threshold that lured me closer, my mind aching to fall asleep. I did everything I could through my weary power to stay awake, although after a while, I wasn't even aware of the fact that I was closing my eyes and drifting away.

_Stay awake, Clare! Stay awake, damn it! _I forced my heavy eyes open, immediately wincing at the sensitivity I had of the light.

I stifled a yawn as I tried to pick up where our teacher was, though unable to make sense of it through my exhausted mind. As I desperately fought to stay awake, I felt something brush across my hand. Just as my eyes drifted over, I felt my hand twitch when I found nothing near my hand to my astonishment. I instantly felt my attention perk up not to our teacher, but to the odd sensation that had grazed my skin.

I was a hundred percent positive that I felt someone touch my hand. I moved my eyes to a student nearby, half expecting to find them trying to catch my attention, though instead, they were all too busy scribbling down notes. I couldn't help but notice that they had a significant amount of notes while I only had a line or two down. Aside from that, my mind demanded to know why I felt something, or someone stroke my hand.

_You're just tired and imagining stuff._ I told myself. _That, or perhaps you're sitting under an air conditioning vent._

To prove my theory a fact, I glanced up at the ceiling, only to have my assumption shot down when I didn't see a vent.

_You're just tired then._ I tried to reassure myself.

My heavy eyelids sank once more, sheltering my sore eyes with a comforting blanket of darkness. Before my weary conscience could urge my eyes open, a low humming sound drug me closer to the comforting, content, inactive state. The tone was very deep and repetitive. It started out as a very faint humming, but slowly grew closer. I knew that I was falling asleep, but my tired mind was poisoned by stupidity; unwilling to obey my mind as my body demanded for sleep, therefore making my conscience voiceless.

The teacher's class lecture faded from my ears as the deep vibrant tone bore into my senses. As it grew louder, I was convinced that the entire room vibrated with the melody that I soon recognized was played by an organ. The melody was very heavy with haunting anguish, and the echoes that bounced away from the walls were gripped with misery. When I first heard it, I hesitated whether to label it as of sounding eerie, or mournful. The more I listened, the more it yanked the strings to my heart, and I found it somber.

It wasn't until then that I felt something soft delicately caressing my entire body. My eyes no longer felt sore; they felt rested for once. Fear of not knowing where I was, my eyes flew open. I gasped when I found myself in a different room. I immediately sat up, finding myself lying on a red comforter. Part of me was extremely grateful that I was still clothed, but the other side of me was still horrified to suddenly be elsewhere. Looking around, I distinctly remembered this room. It was then that I pieced it back together in my mind, and I felt my eyes widen in horror. I then closed my eyes tightly, trying to convince myself that it was all just a dream.

_You're still asleep, and in psychology class – you've merely dozed off! Wake up!_

With my eyes still clamped shut, I pinched my arm, feeling the skin throb from my nails digging in. I held my breath, pinching harder when I realized that I could still hear the organ music.

_Wake up already!_

I pinched my arm until I thought for sure that I would draw blood if I kept it up any longer. The organ music continued to ring from the other room. Reluctantly surrendering to defeat, I lifted my eyes open, greeted by the same mocking bedroom that I still lied in. There was a large black bed frame that cradled the red covers I lied upon. The frame had the shape of a swan. Fear crept into my heart at the thought of the man outside the room; the unknown man. I knew that I was in his home, and I could clearly remember him from my dream; especially the mask, which was certainly an attention grabber. It was a half mask!

_Who was he? The Phantom of the Opera?_ I thought sarcastically.

Aside from the teasing state, I was actually very fearful of him. What would he do with me? Why did he claim to know me? Why did he _kiss_ me? I was quite horrified when he had first crushed me into his arms; I thought for a moment that I would die from his tight hug, but it wasn't necessarily the grip he had on me that shocked me. It was the _feeling_ of his frame and mine pressed together that made me feel as though I would die. . .But from what? Horror? Embarrassment? Although as soon as he had pressed his lips onto mine, my stomach knotted, and my heart nearly stopped in my chest.

Deep down, I resented to admit that the feeling was. . .Rapturous. I certainly did not know him, which was the number one reason why I refused to accept the sudden passion that I felt underneath it all. He had kissed me fiercely, yet lovingly. With me in his arms, I could feel that he was devoted to me, and driven with readiness that yet remained hidden to me. That feeling, had not been found yet in me, for I was dumbstruck by his sudden affection and longing for me – a stranger! I prohibited myself to even begin to think about relishing the sensations that gripped me. I could not, nor would I, be attracted to him because of that encounter. I was not like that.

Whoever he had mistaken me for, was obviously a lover of his. Did I look identical to his lover? A doppelganger seemed highly unlikely. The man most likely had a mental disorder.

_That, or you're just dreaming._

I prayed that that was only the case, but dreaming or not, I wanted to leave. My body felt like lead when I rose from the swan bed, shakily tip-toeing towards the curtain that I still remembered separated me from the other room. I kept telling myself to be very, _very_ quiet when I withdrew from the room. Through all of the heart-pounding anxiety, I tried to reassure myself that he would not register the hushed taps of my shoes over his pipe organ.

_Go._ I silently urged in my mind.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly moved the red curtain aside, careful to look around first before trying to sneak out. To my horror, I saw that the man was nearby, but to my relief, he was faced away from my direction, deeply engrossed with his own music. I took a moment to look around, searching for an exit. Though my eyes had frantically wandered, they suddenly began to marvel at the man's exotic home. I knew that from that moment that the image of this room would never leave my mind. It was the most extraordinary. . ._Abode,_ that I had ever seen. No one would have believed me if I told them that it was an exact copy of Erik's lair, from the Phantom of the Opera. They would have had to truly be there to understand.

It was very similar to walking through a dark cave that was illuminated by an innumerable amount of candles. Although the room was lit by a sea of candles, objects still remained unknown in the shadows that crept up the walls. In the center of the room, was a calm, dark colored lake that caressed a small boat. The boat itself, was done up with rather gothic carvings and dark colors. . .It still somehow looked very elegant at the same time.

The rest of the lair was furnished with red drapes and curtains, a few of which appeared to have mirrors behind them. There were many other exotic antiques found throughout the room, that were not lurking in the dark, that appeared to be very vibrant in deep colors, though very vintage. The scent of roses was thick in the air, along with the scent of burnt candles. Aside from that, there was one thing in particular that still caught my attention.

Though I should have fled long ago, my curiosity was drawn in upon the man that was hunched over the old pipe organ. His long fingers danced across the keys, forming a melody straight from his heart. The man seemed to have succumbed to his inner heartache, and the organ hauntingly sang his tragedy. With every note that rang and echoed throughout the room, I found myself more and more curious about the man who mourned at the organ.

I could have been standing there for hours and not have even realized it. It nearly felt hypnotic just to be standing there and listening. Why did I suddenly feel so drawn to him? I was suddenly tempted to go to him, as though my heart had _missed_ him, but how could that be if I didn't know him? Before I could sink in any deeper, the man turned until he was facing me, shattering the spell I had fallen into. His blue eyes locked onto my green ones, making me jump awake with panic. I nearly gasped, but I held it back.

_I've been discovered! _My mind cried.

"Clare-"

Before I could give him another chance to speak, I wildly searched for an exit before spotting a tunnel. Without time to waste, I bolted for that direction, determined to find my way out somehow, whether he pleaded for me to stop or not. I had been discovered, and I was willing to run if that's what it took to get away.

**. . .**

**I really wish this chapter was longer, but alas, it must end here, and I cannot have you all waiting for another week! I must say, I'm very disappointed with this chapter. But aside from that, what do you guys think is going to happen next? Please share your theories of what will happen next through reviews!**

**Again, sorry that it took so long, guys. I hope that you all like this one, and I deeply hope that you'll all review! PLEASE, review! It helps keep me going and updating.**


	6. Going Under

**Well, reviews are slowly getting better. Thank you for those who have been reviewing this whole time; you're awesome for doing so. Luckily this chapter came sooner than the last one. I had a burst of inspiration yesterday, so yay!**

**This chapter is named after Going Under by Evanescence. Other songs are mentioned as well. I do not own Demons by Imagine Dragons, or Comatose by Skillet.**

**I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or any music from Evanescence, Imagine Dragons, or Skillet! Wish I did, but I don't. *Pouts* I only own my OC's, especially Clare!**

**Enjoy!**

**. . .**

I jumped awake, gasping. The familiar image of my psychology class embraced me, and I realized, to my tremendous embarrassment, that I had fallen asleep in class.

_You idiot! _My mind spat at me. _See what happens when you fall asleep in class?_

As I glanced around, I caught several pair of eyes locked on my form. For a moment, I could've sworn that they gleamed that same beautiful blue topaz color, but within a blink of an eye, I found that I was only met with normal eyes. . .All of which gawked at me like I was a freak. I felt my face burn.

To help cover up my embarrassment, I coughed, hoping that my dramatic gasp had passed off as a need to cough, though I knew that I had probably had been witnessed sleeping; only to awake from a nightmare. I felt a sheepish smile creep onto my face, betraying me. Mina, who sat nearby, smiled back and giggled teasingly at me, and I just playfully rolled my eyes before deciding to make a real effort with taking notes.

**. . .**

Gripping the steering wheel nervously, I drove home, desperate to reach my destination and fly out of the car as quickly as possible. I probably would've looked like a complete weirdo if I actually did do that, but my entire body felt antsy to leave as though there was a ghost right on my heels. Why, exactly? Because I had every right to hate being in a vehicle after what had happened. . .

_Focus on the road._ I told myself. _Almost at the apartment complex._

Mina, who sat in the passenger seat, reached over and fumbled with the radio.

_This is my kingdom come, this is my kingdom come._

"Ooh, turn it up!" Veronica squealed from the back. " I _love_ this song!"

Mina turned it up, and Veronica was practically singing her heart out in the back seat.

"_When you feel my heat, look into my eyes, it's where my demons hide, it's where my demons hide!"_ She sang, horribly off-note. She never cared if she sounded bad, she just enjoyed singing. "_Don't get too close, it's dark inside, it's where my demons hide, it's where my demons hide!"_

Once the song ended, Mina gladly flipped to a different station, but not without hearing Veronica whine from the back.

"Mina, I need to barrow some of your psychology note when we get to the apartment." I said, ignoring Veronica's child-like complaints.

"Okay. Fell asleep in class?" Mina chuckled.

"Yeah. . ." I mumbled, focusing on the road intently.

"I saw that."

"Wait, you were dozing off _again_, CC?" Veronica perked up. I cringed at the nickname she used with me. She had called me CC for years, all because my first and last name started with a C.

"Stop calling me that." I groaned, rolling my eyes. I saw her stick her bottom lip out in a pout from the review mirror.

"Fine, _girly_," She said, shooting me a fake scowl. "but you need to get more rest."

Mina stopped on a random music station, and turned it up.

_Comatose. . .I'll never wake up without an overdose, of you!_

Veronica groaned loudly in disgust. "Not _this_ song!"

"Hey, I like this band." Mina said rather dryly. They went on with the usual arguing over the radio like two little kids. I had to snap at them that either they would stop or go with no music at all; After all, it was my car. Luckily they both got along after I threatened them.

It wasn't long after that we arrived at the apartment, though after only a short amount of time, I had an overbearing headache. Just my luck, that dreadful silvery aura pierced my eyes from a far corner, blinding my vision on that side.

"A migraine, perhaps?" Mina suggested as she sat down on the couch with a romance novel.

"Unfortunately. I'm already seeing a silver aura."

"Ooh, I get those. They're a bitch. Take some aspirin and go to bed." Veronica said, tossing me a small bottle of aspirin from the kitchen.

"Thanks." I croaked as I shuffled tiredly to my room. The silver crescent that had lurked in the corner of my vision was rapidly spreading over at least half of my vision. My head pounded horribly, and I knew that it would only be a matter of time before I would feel queasy. I hastily took an aspirin, gulping down water, praying that I had nipped the problem before it escalated.

I weakly crawled into bed, curling up into the welcoming covers. Usually the idea of surrendering to bed for the night was dreadful, but for once, it didn't seem so threatening. Tonight was an exception.

_Your notes. . .You need to barrow Mina's notes! _My mind nagged as I snuggled deeper into my pillows and blankets. _I'll take them tomorrow. After all, it's not like I would learn much with a freaking migraine. . ._

It wasn't long before I felt myself drift, finally escaping from the pain.

**. . .**

"Clare?"

I felt a very soft touch against my cheek; a loving, endearing touch. My body was perfectly cradled in bed and not a muscle ached, including my eyes that no longer felt heavy. . .That, and my head no longer pounded, and the silvery aura had left. I felt like I was resting in pure bliss.

_Maybe the aspirin kicked in finally._

As soon as my eyes fluttered open, the gentle touch fled from my cheek, and I felt cold air rush to my skin. My eyes were met by soft candle light, and. . .

Horror and adrenaline kicked into my system when I realized that I was not in my room but I was in _his_ home. Sickening fear griped my heart and I had the sudden urge to run. I think I _would_ have ran if _he_ wasn't sitting on my bedside. . .And if I hadn't remembered what had happened last time I ran.

I found myself frantically asking myself if he was truly real as he stared at me with intense concern. I felt like a small child who covered their ears and closed their eyes, constantly repeating to themselves that it wasn't real, determined to convince themselves so. I hadn't felt so much like a child in ages, but here in this man's home, I felt small and powerless. What a horrible feeling!

Was this man obsessed? Crazy? Ill? Or was _I_ the one who was truly insane? Had I imagined him? After all, the mind was powerful, and perhaps the traumatic car accident had finally caught up with me.

When I had ran from this man's home earlier, I had actually admitted to myself that he truly was real. Running from his home, only to be faced with never ending tunnels, screamed that it was not fake. Hell, the traps were certainly real!

"Clare-" He began urgently.

"I wanna go home." I interrupt as I scooted away, hugging my knees close to my chest where my heart pounded. I was so torn of what was and wasn't real. Though whatever it was, I wanted to go home. Home to my parents. College kept me away from them, but I always visited them every chance I got. I had even arranged a date to see them soon - after all, they were only an hour away.

The man looked at me with pained blue eyes. . .Deep topaz eyes. . .

"You have no idea how many times I've heard you say that." He said in a low tone. I felt myself blink stupidly upon his words, but before I could say anything, he sighed. "Are you alright?"

_Alright?!_ My mind shrieked in disbelief.

"_What?"_

"Are you alright, Clare? You nearly drowned."

My mind whirled and I found it harder and harder to even begin to speak. Suddenly, a thought dawned in my mind, and emerged from my mouth before I could truly think it over.

"D-Did _you_ save me?" I blurted out. He looked at me alarmed; most likely shocked that I had spoken abruptly.

"Yes."

"Why?" I whispered hoarsely. It was a rather blunt thing to ask, but I wanted to know.

I did not know this man and there were continuous questions about him that lurked in my mind, thirsty for answers. There was a mysterious air to him, but he oddly seemed willing to hand me answers. What he seemed to reluctantly hand me though, was freedom. He appeared to be careful not to admit that he opposed to set me free, but it was certainly obvious for he had practically hunted me down.

Though for what? To save me? Or so that I could stay here with him forever, whether I wanted to or not? As of now, he didn't show any sign of violence, but I could not help but to be wary. . .It was the main reason why I tried to put as much distance between us without him tempted to scoot any closer. Though whether if he was in my personal bubble, or only in the other room, I was far from my comfort zone. I just wanted to go home where I would be safe. Hell, I would even pick to be in my apartment where my friends were; anywhere but here.

I honestly wasn't sure how exactly I had managed to escape from his main home earlier, but I had a terrible feeling that no matter how far I ventured out, he would find me. Even if I attempted to run a hundred miles from here, he would be only a second behind me. He would always be right there, lurking in shadows where I could not see him, but _feel _him. I would be confined under his powerful eyes, bounded from escaping his view.

"_Why?_" The man echoed, baffled. "I could not let you drown. . .I have revived you once already before, but I would save you from anything, even if it meant to take my own life. . .I have nothing else to live for, anyways." He said dryly.

I honestly didn't know what to say to that. Part of me was in awe by his endearing devotion, but the other part of me said that he was obsessed. Although his mention of reviving me once before, gripped my attention. Was he one of the police officers who had pulled me from the sinking car?

"You revived me?" I whispered quietly.

"Yes." He said. "I had found you drowning in my lake and I had pulled you out. You had been here in my home for months after that."

_Months?! _I shook my head at him in disbelief.

"_No._ You have the wrong person; you must have mistaken me for someone else." He furrowed his visible eyebrow at me. My words must had irked him slightly.

"_No."_ He responded, gruffly. "I know who I'm talking to, and dammit, I have _proof_ that you have been here!" With his temper that had suddenly flared, he rose from the bed turned on his heel.

I watched stiffly, as he turned to a chest of drawers and pulled open one of the drawers, digging through it. He pulled out a small devise, and then grabbed some clothing that had resided on the top of the dresser before returning to me. With an armful of clothing, he released them, letting them fall before me on the bed, before tossing down a small rectangular box as well. I stared at the items, before crying out in horror when I recognized them.

My old cell phone! I had lost in the car accident! I snatched it, studying it carefully as my mind demanded to know why it had been in his possession. Aside from that, I unraveled the neatly folded clothes before recalling that they were mine - an old outfit that I used to wear in my high school years. I hugged the clothing tightly to my chest as I stared at him in fear and disgust. Why did this man have some of my own personal items?

"You're _insane!" _I cried. "Why do you have these? Have you been _stalking_ me all of these years?" I shrieked. "You think it's _alright_ to do this to me? What have I ever done to you? You're a sick man with sick intentions!" I was practically screaming at him at this point and I felt tears prick my eyes. I hadn't cried in _years_, and I wasn't willing to start now.

I saw a wave of horror and disgust flood into the man's eyes.

"I cannot believe that you would have ever thought of me doing such a vile act to you, or any woman. I may have done horrible deeds before in the past, but I have never, nor would I ever, take advantage of a woman." A resolution of hurt was evident in his eyes. A small part of me felt bad for accusing this man of such things, but how could I not assume that that was what he had in mind?

"Why do you have my things, then?" I demanded, still not fully fazed by his words.

I clutched my clothing tightly to myself as though my life depended on it, but I still managed to glare bitterly at him as I waited to hear answers.

"You came here in this. . .This _obscene_ clothing months ago," He said, looking bitter by the thought of my old, harmless outfit. "You also left them behind."

"I still don't believe you." At my words, the man's attention drifted to an old fashioned desk that was against the wall on my left. He went to it, with his boots thumping on the ground. His long graceful fingers skimmed along the desk until he reached a stack a papers. He scooped the papers into his hands as his blue eyes flickered back and forth, reading some of the lines that were written on it.

My eyes caught that he was wearing a white bandage that was wrapped around one of his hands. I faintly wondered what had happened to his hand as my eyes drifted, truly observing him. He was very tall and lean. Though he was thin, he somehow also looked strong. His skin was very pale and his hair was jet black. His hair was slicked back and ended at the nape of his neck.

He had a white half mask that curved from beneath his hair line that ended at the edge of his jaw, and traced along the line of his top lip. He wore dark colored boots and pants. He wore a white ruffly shirt with a low V neck that exposed part of his chest. Before I could ogle any longer, his eyes snapped down to mine.

"Perhaps you will believe me after you read these."

With that, he dropped a stack of letters in front of me. . .All of which possessed my own old hand writing.

**. . .**

**Ack! I just re-read this, and I'm not impressed. -.-' But, let me ask; What do you guys think is going to happen next? Share what you think through reviews!**

**Do you think Clare is going to remember anytime soon? Do you feel bad for poor, poor Erik? I know I do. *Hugs him***

**Well, please review! Each one keeps me going!**

**Thanks for reading!**


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